Harry Potter and the Lord of Shadow
by InTheCell
Summary: Following the events of The Half Blood Prince, it becomes obvious that an evil far greater than anyone in the wizarding world could have imagined is behind all that has occured. ROUGH OF CHAPTER 2 UP, EXPECT REVISIONS
1. Evil Itself

**Harry Potter and the Lord of Shadow**

Chapter One: Evil Itself

The storm was heavy, to say the least. The rain came down in sheets of silver, as forks of gnarly lightning lashed down from the thunderheads, which gave off enormous blasts of thunder.

The Riddle manor was entirely dark, save one window, the main study, illuminated by the lit fireplace, and in the window stood a tall, thin figure:

Lord Voldemort. And he had a sinister smile on his face.

He sensed that the attack on Hogwarts the previous night had gone just as planned. Several wizards had died, dark and light, and his arch-nemesis, Albus Dumbledore, had been finally slain. Hogwarts Wizarding School had been closed indefinitely, hopefully not to open for a very long time.

_Gives me time to take a few of the wizard young, now, doesn't it?_, Voldemort thought with a chuckle. _Without Dumbledore to protect them, it will be as simple as…no…EASIER than taking candy from a baby. And if they don't submit to me, I can always kill them…_

There came a sudden knock on the study's oak door.

"Who is it?" asked Voldemort.

"It is I, Snape, my Lord." was the reply.

"You may enter, Severus."

The door swung open, and Snape entered quickly, dragging a blond-haired teenager by the scruff of his robes. He was obviously not in a good mood.

Voldemort sensed this, but did not turn from the window.

"I must congratulate the both of you on a mission well done. Dumbledore is dead, Hogwarts closed indefinitely, and the entire Wizarding world paralyzed with fear. I could not have hoped for a better result myself."

Smiling, he turned to the boy, "Tell me, Draco: What was it like to kill Albus? Did you enjoy it? Was it…_fun_ to use the most powerful of the Unforgivable Curses against a man beloved by the entire Wizarding world?"

Malfoy did not respond. He didn't even look Voldemort in the eye.

"Draco? Is something wrong?"

Malfoy's lip trembled, and a few tears ran down his cheek.

Voldemort's tone went from questioning to demanding as he kneeled down, "Draco, look at me!"

Slowly, the teary-eyed young wizard looked into the eyes of the Dark Lord, and the Dark Lord into his. All Voldemort saw was pure terror in the face and eyes of Draco Malfoy. Voldemort looked deeper into the boy's eyes, past the eyes, and into the mind. He saw images of the previous night's battle:

A door blasting open.

An old man standing, talking to the boy.

Someone shouting in the distance.

More Death Eaters swarming into the room.

The boy, gripped with fear, unable to complete his given task.

Another figure, a man striding into the room.

The man raising his wand, a flash of green light, and the old man falling to his death.

By now, Malfoy was sobbing.

"Draco, stop it!" snapped Snape. But Malfoy could not. It was all over, and it did not matter what happened next. He was already dead.

Snape looked at Voldemort, who was now standing.

Outside, the storm suddenly became fierce.

"Explain yourself, Draco. NOW!" roared the Dark Lord, his face contorting with anger.

"I…just couldn't…do…it!" Malfoy stammered between sobs, "Please…please don't…kill my family…PLEASE! I'll…do anything! ANYTHING!"

"You cannot undo what has already been done, Draco," said Voldemort as his wand appeared from underneath his robes, "I gave _you_ the task of killing Dumbledore, and you failed. Because of your weakness, another wizard had to do the deed for you. A deed that was meant for _you._"

"Don't…please…I'm sorry!"

"_Crucio!_"

Malfoy fell, screaming in pure agony. Pain ripped though the core of his body, and ripped out to the extremities. He trashed wildly, convulsively. His face turned blood-red as the pain grew greater, as he screamed even louder. His nose began to bleed profusely, scarlet blood smearing all over his face, staining his robes, and eventually, blood even came from the corners of his eyes. He screamed so loud that he vomited on the floor. He couldn't think about anything but pain, horrible pain. He tried screaming for his mother, but only incoherent yells came out. He just wanted the pain to stop, even if he had to die…just let the pain stop!

And it did. He gave a final scream of agony, and lay still. He curled into a fetal ball, covered in his own blood and vomit, a sickening sight to any weak-hearted wizard. Voldemort did not care, he had seen far, far worse than what now lay before him. Again, he knelt down to Draco.

"You now understand the price of your failure?"

Draco, unable to speak out of raw fear, could only nod slightly.

"Good. Now, stand up, Draco."

Voldemort stood back as Malfoy shakily got to his feet, still trembling in fear, and even whimpering slightly.

"I have asked you how it feels to kill the most powerful wizard in the world, a question to which you were not able to provide a response, since you were not able to complete your task. Now I ask you: How does it feel to fail me, Draco?"

Draco's face was deathly white. He opened his mouth to answer, but only croaking noises came out.

Voldemort sighed, "I fully understand, Draco." And he raised his wand.

"No...Don't…" croaked Malfoy, tears once again flowing from his eyes.

_"Avada Kedavra!"_

An intense green light exploded from the tip of Voldemort's wand, striking Malfoy in the chest with a loud rushing sound. The boy was thrown, screaming, off his feet and through the study doors, where he crashed lifelessly to the ground, his blood and vomit stained robes thrown asunder.

"I just hope you fully understand, my boy…" he sighed, putting away his wand.

There was dead silence for several seconds as Voldemort strode back to the window, where outside, the storm was calming down.

"Severus? Are you listening?"

Snape, who had stayed completely out of Voldemort's way, seemed to suddenly appear again. "I am, my Lord."

"Good. I want you to now go and kill the rest of the Malfoys. Have the Dementors in Azkaban perform the Kiss on Lucius, and then you will burn what's left. Kill Narcissa, and if you want, let Greyback eat her. Any other Malfoys you find, you can do as you wish. Understood?"

Snape suddenly felt ill, but nonetheless answered, "Yes, my Lord."

Voldemort suddenly twitched, looking towards the fireplace. "Leave now, Severus. I have business to attend to."

"Yes, my Lord." said Snape, and he left the room in a hurry, his face green.

Voldemort strode intently towards the fireplace, his new task on his mind. He reached into a jar on the desk, and took out a handful of Floo Powder. He walked up to the orange flames in the fireplace, and threw the powder in, turning the flames a vibrant green. Words came from his lips that could not possibly be understood in any other language, and he walked into the flames.

Voldemort emerged in a pitch black chamber, or it would appear so, to the unobservant. Large torches lit the room, but towards a towering, gnarly chair, the light seemed to be absorbed by an infinite, evil shadow that even seemed to absorb the light directly from the torches themselves. Grey brick walls seemed to warp and distort in constant motion, and the black marble floor seemed like liquid to the eyes. In fact, everything in the room would appear to twist and distort constantly. If one listened closely, they would be able to hear what could have been thousands of voices screaming, moaning, calling out in terror from behind the shadow. The air was thin and viciously cold, even to Voldemort's feel. If he drew breath, it would feel like his lungs were freezing solid, and his whole body would shiver.

It would appear that Voldemort had entered into the centre of evil itself.

Undaunted, Voldemort walked slowly along the marble pathway to the throne, where a dark figure sat. As he got closer, he could see the person more clearly. It wore robes similar to a Dementor's, torn, ragged, and discolored. No face could be made out from behind the hood, which completely obscured all behind it. Hands, clad in spiny steel gauntlets, extended from the sleeves, one which clasped a black wand, and lazily fiddled with it.

When Voldemort reached the foot of the throne, he knelt, his head bowed low.

The voice that spoke was neither male nor female, but both, and sent an icy wave of fear through Voldemort's entire frame.

"Lord Voldemort, is everything going according to plan?"

"Yes, my Master," whispered Voldemort, "Dumbledore is dead, Hogwarts closed, and the Wizarding world frozen with fear. It will not be long now."

"Good, my apprentice. I understand that Malfoy was not able to complete his task of killing Dumbledore."

"Yes, Master. As we planned, and expected, he was too afraid to kill Dumbledore, and Snape finished the job for him."

"Good, good. Severus should be well rewarded, very well rewarded. What of Harry Potter, the one 'destined' to destroy you?"

"Severus wounded him prior to leaving Hogwarts, but did not kill him. I had told my Death Eaters to leave Potter to me, as per your request."

"Yes, well done. Potter being alive shall factor well into the next phases of the plan. It all depends on him. Everything has gone exceptionally over the last few years: We may have failed to retrieve the orb containing The Prophecy, but it was not necessary. But now that Dumbledore is dead, we have very little in our way, wouldn't you agree?"

"I do, Master."

"Good. Now, the next phase must be executed swiftly, and without mercy. While Harry Potter is out searching for your Horcruxes, he is distracted. You will take a large team of your most powerful Death Eaters and launch a vicious, merciless strike against the Ministry of Magic in London. Strike hard and fast as possible. Take all the most valuable things you can find, prophetic orbs in particular. Kill anyone in your way. The only ones who _must_ die are the Minister of Magic, and all his highest officials. Leaderless, the Wizarding community will break under their own fear, and plunge into chaos, from which they will never recover."

"I will do as you have commanded, my Master." Voldemort stood, bowed once more, and left.


	2. Sadistic and Uncaring

**Harry Potter and the Lord of Shadow**

Chapter Two: Sadistic and Uncaring

Harry Potter shot bolt upright in bed, covered in cold sweat, panting heavily, his mind swirling with images of a vicious nightmare. He sat there, in stunned silence, for a moment, trying to collect himself, trying to remember his dream.

He, Ron, and Hermione had been running though…darkness, infinite darkness. Voices had been screaming at them from all sides. They couldn't see, couldn't breathe. All they could feel was an intense, cold _evil_ that seemed to come from beyond the darkness. Harry could sense the presences of two people up ahead, whatever that had been. One was definitely Voldemort; the other…seemed _far_ more powerful. What terrified Harry beyond the thought that there could be a dark wizard stronger than Voldemort was what he heard them say to each other,  
"Potter being alive shall factor well into the next phases of the plan. It all depends on him."

"I will do as you have commanded, my Master."

The latter speaker was Voldemort, but the one he called "Master" had a voice…that couldn't belong to any_thing_ Harry could imagine. And Voldemort, calling something _Master?_ How…it didn't seem possible!

Letting his mind drift from the nightmare, Harry observed his room. He was back at the Dursley's house, as he had promised Dumbledore, in his small room with all his belongings. It was pitch black, save the slivers of moonlight that managed to sneak through the thick clouds that the recent thunderstorm had brought, and Harry thought for a moment about how quickly the storm had seemed to come in that evening.

His eyes trailing to his floor, he noticed that he had pitched a large textbook onto the wooden floor. It lay, pages wrinkled and torn. Picking it up, he flattened out the pages, and closed it. The title _Artifacts of the Dark Arts: A Complete Compilation_ reflected off the moonlight. Harry had managed to get Professor Slughorn to sneak him a copy of this rare book, so that he could research Horcruxes, and ways to destroy them. As he put it back on his bookshelf, he straightened out his quill bookmark, brushing off dust and dirt. Hedwig chirped at him from her cage, gazing at him with concern.

"I'm alright, Hedwig. Just another one of these damned nightmares."

The snowy owl just turned her head to the side, and twittered.

Harry laughed, "Thanks, girl."

As Harry lay back down, and covered himself with his sheets, his thoughts went back to Professor Dumbledore. He remembered, with great sadness, how he had seen Professor Snape just step through the gathering of Draco Malfoy and the Death Eaters, and kill the aged Hogwarts Headmaster without hesitation or care. The fear in Dumbledore's voice still haunted Harry, who relived that dreadful night every time he went to bed. Malfoy's ranting, Dumbledore dying at Snape's hand, Snape running away, effortlessly deflecting Harry's spells, and striking him down without even trying. Despite what Snape had snarled in rage at him, Harry still thought Snape was a coward, running away without even giving Harry the honour, the _satisfaction_, of fighting him, to avenge Dumbledore.

"Bastard…" Harry hissed through his teeth, "…coward."

Voldemort's Horcruxes had to be destroyed before he could be killed. However, Snape was simply a mortal man, and Harry suddenly realized that he could do far, far worse to Snape than what he could do to Dumbledore. And for a moment, that thought seemed…_good_. It seemed only_ right_. And Harry enjoyed that thought, causing immense pain to Snape before he finally died, making him suffer in any way humanly possible before killing him outright the most horrible fashion possible. _It felt GOOD to think, and to feel that way_. To make Snape feel _pain_ would be _right_!

In a jolt, it was like Harry was suddenly suffocating, as he inhaled _sharply_, and coughed loudly, almost gagging. He fell off his bed, and onto the floor, where he lay, coughing, and shuddering, struggling to get up. Trying to figure out how that had happened he came to realize just what he had been thinking, taking absolute pleasure from the suffering of another person. _How could I have been thinking that_, he wondered, shakily getting to his feet.

Harry Potter, a sadist? Taking pleasure from torturing and eliciting pain from another human being? Preposterous. But, Snape? How could one who killed such a beloved man whom he had deceived for so long, be human? Such a coward, such a liar, human? Ridiculous…laughable, in fact. Harry heard himself laugh…_evilly_. No, there was no way Snape could be human. Therefore, it couldn't be wrong to cause him to suffer before he killed him. Snape _had_ to suffer, he _deserved_ it. Harry's lips curled back in a wicked smile that would have made Voldemort himself probably shrink back in terror. _How could it be wrong to make him suffer,_ wondered Harry, _After all he has done, what harm could some pain do? Would it really be all that bad? Who would even care about Snape, it's not like he has any _human _friends! Yes, ALL of the Death Eaters should suffer…VERY. VERY PAINFULLY! YES! **ALL OF THEM! ALL…OF…THEM, MUST…DIE!**_

A low, menacing rumble started in Harry's chest, and worked its way up though his throat, before bursting out through his lips in a mighty, bellowing laugh. He reared back and let loose, letting himself laugh, not out of simply joy, but out of pure, malicious, sadistic, and uncaring pleasure.

"POTTER! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?" roared the enraged voice of Vernon Dursley.

Harry's laugh quieted a little, down to a lesser volume. The young wizard just stood there, reveling in his pleasure.

Harry Potter: Sadist? Suddenly, it didn't seem so impossible.

Voldemort stood next to his Master, who held its wand to its forehead, and seemed to be meditating intensively. A small portal showed Harry Potter, standing in his bedroom, laughing in pure sadistic pleasure.

And Voldemort smiled.

He sensed he could speak, "An interesting idea, my Master. Making Harry Potter _want_ to cause pain, making the hero of the all the 'good' wizards suddenly into a monster. Most wonderful, Master."

The portal faded from view, and was replaced with shadow. 'Master' withdrew its wand from its forehead, and put it back beneath luminous, black robes.

"I apologize, Master. Have I said something wrong?"

"On the contrary, Lord Voldemort, you have not offended me. You have only discovered a recent addition to my plan."

"And what is that, Master?"

"I do not intend Mr. Potter to feel this way _immediately._ Right now, he is horrified that he could think such things. I will continually, from time to time, infiltrate his mind without him knowing, and place these thoughts in his mind. He should gradually come to accept these thoughts as natural, and he will thirst to act on them. To those around him, it will simply seem like he is going insane."

"I see. But what if he realizes what you plan to do?"  
"I highly doubt he will. He doesn't even know I exist. He'll probably just think it's you doing all this. Stupid, naïve boy…"

"I totally concur, my Master. Completely."

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Please note that this is a rough of the second chapter. I fully plan to revise and repost it at a later time.


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